


Everything hits at once

by ArigatoRadio



Category: Persona 5, Persona 5 Royal
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Differences, Character Study, F/M, Moral Ambiguity, Moral corruption, Plot differences, other characters to be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-01-21 03:56:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21293231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArigatoRadio/pseuds/ArigatoRadio
Summary: "There's worse things you could be stuck doing for a year."Akira Kurusu is on a tight leash.Barely nineteen and already his life has spiraled beyond out of control. Forced into a new college, forced to start over in a city full of more opportunity than he could comprehend. And suddenly, one day he finds himself to wield power beyond our reality. He doesn't understand what he's capable of."Yeah, guess you're right. A year is a long time."
Relationships: Persona 5 Protagonist/Yoshizawa Kasumi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	1. Enter

**Author's Note:**

> This story will tackle concepts and story lines present in P5R, I will note at the beginning of the chapter they become relevant for those of you avoiding story spoilers till the western release. However please note that for the sake of this story, foreshadowing, etc. I cannot guarantee that this story will be spoiler free entirely. Please keep that in mind.
> 
> Also, I apologize for how short the first chapter is. I promise this is a one time thing.

“You’ve got a fridge in your, well ‘room’, I guess. You can’t touch anything in the kitchen fridge. It’s ingredients for customers, got it?”   
  


I nodded, albeit taken back by how quickly his tone changed as soon as he brought up his own property.

“Good.” He started.

“Well, I’m gonna lock up. Key is on the hanger in your room if you need to leave. But only if you need.” I silently nodded again.

He rolled his eyes after staring at me intently for a moment.

“Good night.” He said.

“Good night Mr. Sakura.” I said back. The door closed behind him. 

I sighed aloud, my eyes adjusting to the dark interior of the cafe from Mr. Sakura turning the lights off. The small glow of the lights outside, melted away into the mess of water sprayed across the outside windows from the heavy rain. I could sort of make out Mr. Sakura walking outside as a mess of colors under a dark umbrella, reflecting off the lights. I ran my hands across the leathers and woods of the cafe’s furniture. It all smelled fantastic, almost as good as the coffee I had from here earlier. I could still faintly taste it in the back of my throat.

I reached the stairs to my room for the foreseeable future, I climbed them one at a time, my hands shoved into my hoodie’s pockets. The stairs creaked and felt like they held up to the weight of me as well as wet paper would. Miraculously, they held up until I reached the attic. One light was flickering the corner near my bed, it made the room feel beyond eerie. The windows that covered the upper half of the entire back wall, had their blinds closed, refusing the outside world a glance at my little crany of private existence. 

Several massive, duct taped cardboard boxes sat in the middle of the floor, along with large black suitcases. My entire life had been signed, sealed, and delivered to some cafe in the middle of fucking Tokyo. I had spent the past three months infuriated with the decision. Through my trial hearing, watching the jury and audience’s expressions while I violently pleaded for that bald fuck to tell the truth that I was arrested, preventing his worthless, scumbag ass, from raping a woman.

I shook my head, exhaling as I felt the ends of my fingernails agitate the palm of my hand from where my fingers were clenching. 

I checked my phone, no notifications of any kind. I had deleted all of my old social media, so I was used to the feigned isolation. Most all of my entire community turned against me once I was arrested. As soon as my parents stopped believing me, it was a landslide effect across the other adults I knew as well as the student body of my last school. My professors quickly wrote me off before I was expelled, but I at least got a transfer recommendation from it. My credits for my business major was all that really mattered to me. 

As I begin undoing the tape and any other wrapping on my luggage, I played a game of trying to convince myself that this was somehow a blessing in disguise. I was going to a well reknown and respected college, with a full ride, for now anyway. I was living in an excellent cafe, in the biggest city in the world. It could definitely have turned out worse. I would have liked to have kept most of my old friends and my girlfriend though. The social aspect was unquestionably the biggest con. 

By the time I had decided, for now anyway, that I would remain neutral about the entire situation, half an hour had passed and I had only unpacked enough clothes for tomorrow. Apparently at some point during my think tank, I began unpacking my electronics and different physical media. I collected them and began sorting my console games, DVDs, and books, on the different shelves near my bed. 

Fuck, it was already past midnight. I sighed and ran my hand down my face. Some sweat was present on my hand.

I walked to my bed and quickly dressed down to my trunks. My clothes in a disregarded mess at the foot of the bed frame. I reached over from my spot sitting on the sheets to turn on the fan. It spooled up slowly but eventually began spitting cool air into the room. 

The place did look slightly more homey with the clothes and boxes strewn about. Different colors sitting on, or spilling out of the tops of some boxes and one suitcase, looking like candy worms leaking from a paper bag. I swiped my phone open, going to the clock application and making sure my alarm was set for seven hours from now. I had to get up early and go to Shujin with Mr. Sakura so they could verify I was being watched over. It seemed unnecessary since this was a university and all the students were adults, but this is all a strange and special case I suppose.

I laid on my back, my phone on my chest, staring at the ceiling and the pointless fan that looked like it broke ten years ago, try to keep spinning. The lightbulb in the center of it needed to be changed. Opposite the bed, on the other wall, was a large desk. It looked like it used to house some sort of tool kit, but was clean enough to look like I could use it to study pretty well. I made a mental note to check for the outlet nearest it to plug my laptop in tomorrow. I had wanted to try out that very old fashioned couch as well, but I was slightly worried that sitting on it might break it. 

I also had to deal with the massive plastic wrap, plaster coverings, tarps and 2x4’s that were laying in the corner from some previous construction work Mr. Sakura had apparently been doing. There was also a tall plant near the window he said I could let die or foster, I hadn’t made up my mind yet. 

I really,  _ really _ , wanted to shower. However, since I was technically living in a restaurant, there was no shower. There was a bathhouse nearby though. I would need to take advantage of that at my earliest convenience. Running my hand on my face, I noticed a shave would only help me as well. Maybe I should get up earlier. No, it’s not like we were going on a weekday to see the headmaster. Other students weren’t going to catch a glimpse of me. At least I hoped not.

The more I thought, the more my mind grew overworked and overtired. I faintly remember taking off my glasses and setting them on the floor, before I fell asleep with my face in the sheets. At least the bed was comfortable.

Then, that night, I had a fantastically strange dream. It started when two girls with batons, no taller than a ten year old, swung at the rusted iron bars of my prison cell. 


	2. Hello

While I slept that night, I felt something. Or maybe someone. It felt more personal, more intimate. Like when someone puts their hand on you. It was a fleeting and deep connection at the same time, in whatever the core of my being must have been. It was unsettling, cold. Otherly. I couldn’t give anymore words. But I-I don’t know. The sound of my alarm blaring on my chest and right in front of my face, shattered my thoughts. I shot awake, in a cold sweat, my hair standing on edge, matted together from the freezing sweat that ran down the back of my neck and had leaked onto the sheets. I gasped and stared at the insignificant shards of light peering in from the cracks in the blinds. The rest of the world was how it was when I was awake last. That was nice to know at least. 

Eventually, I looked down at my phone. I didn’t charge it, but luckily it was closer to full battery than anything else. The alarm widget’s icon was bouncing around the screen, encouraging me to smack my finger against different parts of the screen till it stopped. Finally. 

I turned down the brightness and checked my notifications. Just weather and a text from Mr. Sakura asking me two minutes ago if I was awake. I sent him back a flat ‘Yeah.’  
I sat my phone down and stuffed my hands into the heavy comforter, grabbing it and pulling it off me. Revealing my pasty white legs and dark trunks against the off-white sheets I slept on. I stared for a minute. My brain attempting to start working for the day. I rubbed the crust from my left eye, reminding myself that I needed my glasses. My hand fell to the floor and lazily swung around, trying to find it. I ended up just wiping dust across my hand as I seemed to have touched everything but what I wanted to. My pink brushed against something plastic, gotcha. I pulled my arm back up and blew on the lenses before putting it back on my face. They were cold as ice, which helped me wake up more, even if just the slightest bit. 

I scooted to the edge of the bed and forced myself to stand, my arms involuntarily stretching as high as they could. Cracking and sliding what felt like my entire skeleton back into place. My shoulders were killing me. Despite my shoulder’s protests, I reached for my hoodie. Zipping it up while my feet tried adjusting to the temperature of the floor, making my teeth chatter. I crawled over to my suitcase and grabbed the first pair of pants I could find. They were indistinguishable from the same black slacks I wore yesterday, but they were clean and that’s all that matters. I sat on the bed again, slipping one lazy limb it at a time. I stretched again.

I cracked my neck from side to side, pressing my jaw in the opposite direction and hearing more sharp cracks in the base of my neck. I yawned, catching some of the stray light from the blinds in one of my eyes as I stood up and I nearly felt dizzy. Too much stimulation. Fuck I need coffee.

I sauntered over to my suitcase again, sitting next to it and pulling one of the zippers down. Some unorganized pairs of socks spilled out. I pulled two out, resting one of my elbows on the raised opening of the side of the case. I bent my knee and spent at least a minute trying to get the sock on right for each foot, the ordeal took even more of what little energy I had. 

I eventually stood up, having grabbed a shirt that lay in the mess of the suitcase now. It was a plain navy blue. I looked very unassuming today. That was good. 

I leaned over near my bed and turned off the light I had left on before I passed out, my fingers slightly warm from the heat of the bulb under the lampshade. My phone vibrated. 

I reached into my pocket and tapped the button on the side of the phone, waking it up.

“I’ll be about ten or fifteen minutes, make yourself some coffee if you like. Just sit tight.”  
All he had to say was coffee.

I slipped my feet back into my loafers and made my way down the precarious staircase back into Leblanc’s cafe. The stairs were still creaky and I didn’t hate it any less. I practically stomped my right foot onto the lacquered hardwood floor of the cafe with my awkward, exhausted steps. I’m amazed I made it down the stairs, but then again there was a handhold. 

I stepped back into the cafe. The downpour from last night had gone, the windows were covered with an unremarkable dew, and the street outside Leblanc was quiet and empty. Save for the white collar worker walking through that I caught a second of. 

I made my way around the bar counter to the coffee lab that Mr. Sakura managed before the customers every day. The thought of enjoying a blonde pour-over was almost intoxicating, but I didn’t trust myself to not burn myself and not piss off Mr. Sakura by screwing up somehow. After standing and looking at his perfectly clean glass coffeeware and burner and grinder, the smell of the beans on the bar almost tricked my brain into thinking it had gotten its caffeine fix. However, on a lower shelf, below all the kit, was a shelf of canned cold brew. On the floor of that shelf was a yen symbol with several large question marks, guess he was trying to price it different. Without a second thought, I grabbed a black twelve ounce bottle and chugged half of it in less than a second. The smooth black water swirled and dripped down my throat, the familiar scent and flavor restoring life back to my weak, tired, body. The sound of the can decoupling from my lips was audible, I nearly moaned. 

I shook my head and blinked a few times. The caffeine content of cold brew never failed to at least feel like the effect was immediate. I licked my teeth and the insides of my cheek to draw out any refuges of flavor. Satisfied, I popped open the trash can next to me with my foot and tossed the empty can in. That would get me through my obligations for now.

He had at least seventy different types of coffee beans on these shelves. There were definitely more, but I didn’t want to spend the rest of the time till we left counting coffee. Maybe some other time. I leaned back off the bar and looked out the window again. Nothing noteworthy besides an awning’s flaps moving in the wind. 

I wanted to take a seat in one of the booths, but I had some self control now. Enough to know that would put me to sleep even with the coffee starting the process of waking me up. The leather was a strange mahogany glow in the pale morning light that penetrated the dark, heavy clouds in the sky. 

All the staring at the outside and the need to keep moving to force me to stay awake compelled me to head towards the door. I yawned and stretched again, my eyes feeling pulled as the light started crawling up my body from the glass in the door as undid the deadbolt and walked outside.

The temperature change felt like whiplash, my face instantly felt frozen, the air sapping my skin of any moisture. I turned away for a moment, before walking into the tiny street and leaving the building. I coughed and took a moment to look up, my eyes adjusted faster than I’d thought, as the clouds had moved in even closer, hiding more of the skylight. 

The sounds of the outside were a comforting reminder that I was indeed back in reality, as that strange sinking feeling from my dream hadn’t left me until just now. The sound of cars, their horns, a bicycle chime, leaves hitting the ground, a stranger’s voice. 

“Excuse me?” I looked to my right, finding a man who was definitely younger than Mr. Sakura, as well as much older than me. He held an umbrella over his head, somewhat obscuring his unremarkable face. He looked like almost any other man in a crowd. He had clean, chestnut brown hair, a well-kept face, and wore a long raincoat over a navy two-piece suit.

“Oh, good morning.” I said, my hands still in my pockets as I turned to face him. 

“I-uh-Yes hello. Good morning. Did you just open? I apologize if I startled you.” He was talking a lot but saying very little. As much as I would love to explain why I actually lived in this cafe, I simply told him: “Yes, did you need something?”

He nodded and sneezed into his arm. “Ugh, sorry again. I did actually, uh, I live right down the street here and I think the mail may have been delivered to here instead. A ‘2’ instead of a ‘1’ on the address.” He innocently chuckled. 

“Oh, sure. I’ll check.” I turned around to face the wall near the entrance to the cafe, a small vertical box with a “125” marked on it, was locked and had rust on the underedge. I reached into my pants pocket, finding the key I took off the wall before coming outside, taking a moment to find the one that would open the mailbox, I thought it’d be simpler to ask his name, in case Mr. Sakura maybe got other people’s mail.

“Uh, name?” I said aloud, finally getting the right key into the tumbler. 

“Should say Goto Yoshizawa?” He said. I smiled to myself, holding back a bad origami joke.

A number of plastic wrapped and rubber band tied papers spilled out, coupons, ads, an actual letter, and a bright yellow envelope with “Goto Yoshizawa” printed across the front, with all the other necessary details to deliver the letter properly. Which evidently didn’t happen.

I pulled the envelope for Mr. Yoshizawa out, slamming the mailbox closed and turning to face him.

“There you are.” I said, yawning again. He looked at me with a warm smile and chuckled.

“Tired, eh?” He said. “Shouldn’t you have had enough coffee before you serve it?” He laughed at his own joke. He seemed like he was either unfathomably lonely, or a dad. 

I laughed back. “Well, sometimes it can’t be helped. I woke up late today.” I scratched the back of my head. 

He tucked the envelope into one of his coat’s pockets, shoving it into place.

“When were you hired? I come here all the time, never seen you before.” He said, turning back to me with a calm, welcoming tone having settled within his voice. 

I found myself digging a fairly benign, but still lie filled, hole. I was secretly hoping he’d leave as soon as possible, but he seemed insistent on socializing.

“Just last week. I’ll be here pretty often from now on.” I said.

He nodded, seemingly in confirmation. 

“Well, I’d better be off but it was very nice to meet you.” He said, extending a hand. 

“Goto.” He added. 

I grasped his hand and shook it firmly.

“Akira. Pleasure, sir.” He waved me off. 

“No, pleasure’s all mine. Have a good day, Akira. Swell to meet you.” He nodded and turned away, happily walking down the street, avoiding the small puddles on the ground he would come across as he walked. As soon as he turned the corner, I made sure the mailbox was locked with a firm tug, before slipping back inside. Flipping the hanging sign to ‘closed’ again.

I sat down at the bar, exhaling a sigh of relief as I pulled my phone out. I was beyond lucky that exchange was brief. The last thing I needed right now was Mr. Sakura catching me lying about myself, and his store, right in front of it, to a regular no less. I tried not to think about it as I swiped over to the news.

A subway train had experienced a horrible accident. The conductor suffered what has apparently grown to become a less than rare occurrence, “A mental shutdown.” According to a passenger who discovered him in the frontmost car, he was drooling, with glazed over eyes as he lay on the console. Having accidentally having maximized the accelerator as he had also lost consciousness. Considering medical professionals didn’t have a proper explanation for this, it seemed almost fantastical. Unbelievable really. Though I’m sure not to the people who had the misfortune of being on that car.

Another popular headline just below it covered a similar instance of these “shutdowns.” I began to read it as the door opened.

“There you are. Let’s go, or we’ll be late.”

I nodded, silently acknowledging him and his stylish white fedora, paired with a matching blazer he wore over a similar pink button up to as the day before.

I walked past him outside, he reached for a set of keys and pulled the door closed. Locking it swiftly, he gestured with his thumb towards the main street. I followed him down the small road, passing the entrance to a small laundromat, as well as that bath house. Once we were on the larger road, I read neon signs hanging off the sides of the neighboring, gray buildings. They seemed strung up by threads, the steel holding them on long since forgotten about their upkeep. The building adjacent to Leblanc was a small convenience shop, near that, a sort of homebrew pawnshop that had yet to open for the day.

I would have taken more in, but Mr. Sakura called for me and I turned. He waited at a small parking spot he made at the edge of the street before what led out into the main arteries and veins of Tokyo. It was a small, european car. A Volkswagen I believe. 

“Don’t put your shoes on the seats.” He ordered, leaning his head down to get in. 

I opened the door to the back seat. Which was one seat. A long bench of leather and belts that sat square in the middle of the quaint little car. I crawled over to the middle spot, where Mr. Sakura could see me easier. I could see his eyes watching where I put my feet in the rearview. For some reason, the car smelled like chamomile.

“Alright, buckle up. The place isn’t exactly that close.” 


	3. Campus

I had nodded off at some point during the drive. The swerve of the car making a hard right before slowing down somewhere where the ambience of other cars and light rain was gone. My eyes cracked open, facing the top of the car. I rolled my head forward of the headrest, my hand going to rub my neck. It throbbed in only the way sleeping wrong could hurt. I applied pressure to the afflicted area as Mr. Sakura pulled the gear into park, pulling the keys out. The lack of the engine sputtering in the aging hood, quickly made the car cabin uncomfortable, as neither of us were saying anything. I looked out the window and was astonished to find the school as it was.

We were parked on the left hand side of a large parking lot that was cut in half by a long walkway, covered with planters, streetlights, and benches. The walkway to the front of the campus opened up far past where we had turned in, it was accessible via the street, but the way the campus was laid out made it seem so theatrical. The two halves of the parking lot and the long walkway entrance were in front of a small but wide stairway that stopped at three different sets of tall, black double doors. The entrance to the school itself. I had to crane my neck around to the other window on the opposite side of the backseat, to get a better look at the campus. The front of the large building that acted as the entrance to the university branched off into several different smaller buildings, as well as what seemed to be open exterior areas.

“You done staring? We need to go in.” Mr. Sakura said, putting his fedora back on and exiting the car. I pulled the handle and scooted outside, standing into the cold Tokyo wind. Looking back along the parking lot, only the staff spots were full. The rest were unoccupied. Mr. Sakura walked with his own hands in his pockets as he made his way towards the entrance building through an iron gate separating the lot and the walkway to the front. I took a deep breath and rubbed my eyes again, following him at a distance. 

The sun was starting to peer through the clouds above us, so I watched my feet walk along the newly painted asphalt. My hand subconsciously slipped into my pocket, removing my phone and flashing the screen awake for a moment. Half an hour had passed since we left, so either we encountered a good bit of traffic, or this place was too far. Whatever reason it was, the distance this place had from Leblanc, on what seemed to be the farther side of Tokyo, made it feel just as alien. The buildings on the streets that ran through the behind of the school had the effect of disappearing the farther along they went, disappearing amongst treelines and flat plains. I looked back down at my phone and put it away, as Mr. Sakura and I had reached the gate. He pushed it in and closed it behind me. 

As we walked from the asphalt onto the cement sidewalk, I decided to start the conversation for once.

“This place is a lot bigger than I thought.” I remarked, beginning ahead of him.

He followed a bit behind me, I didn’t look back at him, the gray and black building was absorbing most of my attention.

“Well, this is a university and not a community college” Mr Sakura started, “There’s bound to be plenty of… clear differences.” He said, somewhat begrudgingly amused.

The plants that were potted in large, raised rectangular planters, were parallel to each other. Every few steps there was another matching pair of planters, benches and streetlights. It evoked the same feeling that a long tunnel on a lonely does. Daunting. Like whatever was on the other end would determine my future. Maybe it would. 

I took the first steps to the school’s entrance, the glass on the doors were tinted, at least on the outside looking in. I went to grab the door handle, but Mr. Sakura got to me first. 

“Hey, cool it. I’ll go first.” I moved out of the way as he trudged up the steps and looked at me with all the warmth of a dying fish.

He opened the door, and held the heavy metal frame open for me to follow behind. 

The inside of the school felt like it was bigger than any of your concerns, or worries. Your life existed within and without these walls all at once. You left yourself outside, and came here to be educated; study to change what was outside. But not inside Shujin; here you played by its rules.

The floors were a sleek, deep gray tile. The walls were a brightly painted sheer white, like paper, no doubt plenty of those were about to be signed by me and Mr. Sakura. The sliding doors to the classrooms were obsidian, a void, behind which lay a place clinically mixed and mastered to teach. 

“God, this place looks like a goth hospital.” I said under my breath. I could have sworn I heard Mr. Sakura blow air out his nose. 

Him and I walked down the hall, passing a few small rooms that appeared to be storage or electrical closets. Our footsteps perfectly echoed off the walls, dropping off in the distance so slowly it felt like the sound would never fade. Or maybe there were other people walking around. It was most likely that. 

Mr. Sakura turned as we reached an elevator. He pressed the small chrome button, which glowed a soft red behind the edges of the circle.

We stood in silence as we heard something in the elevator shaft lurch with a mechanical moan, and begin ascending down towards us. 

Someone shouted something incoherent somewhere in the building, we only heard the echo. Someone opened a door. The elevator dinged.

Mr. Sakura walked in first, I followed. 

The elevator was the same monochromatic grayscale as the rest of the building’s color scheme so far, I was getting the impression that the whole college campus must look like this.

Mr. Sakura hit the button marked with a transparent ‘5.’ Were all the campus buildings this damn immense? Maybe this one was an exception, but five floors still seemed excessive. 

“It goes without saying, but be on your best behavior.” Mr. Sakura said. 

“Yes sir.” I told him. 

As the elevator box slid into place, and the door opened. We were ready to walk out, instead we were inches from crashing into a yawning woman with a striped yellow sweater and a denim skirt. 

“Oh! Shit, sorry!” she said, dropping a bunch of papers. I smacked the “open door” button so they didn’t get crushed or sucked in and out of the elevator. 

Mr. Sakura immediately crouched down and began helping pick up the scattered papers for her. I moved out of the way of the elevator door frame, stepping onto the 5th floor and crouching next to her and beginning to help out as well. I snatched up and turned the pages around so they fit nicely into a neat stack. My name was scrawled across several of the papers.

“So sorry again, I’ve been feeling very clumsy today.” She apologetically repeated. Mr. Sakura adjust his hat and stood back up, “It’s no trouble don’t worry about it.”

“Well, thank yo-wait a second, you’re that transfer. Ugh.”

I hadn’t noticed she was looking at me since I was reading what I could of the papers. As soon as I heard her recognize me, I turned the papers over in my hand and offered them to her. 

“Is something wrong?” I asked, appearing concerned. 

She rolled her eyes and took the papers from me, the rest from Mr. Sakura. 

“No, I was just on my way down to wait for you two. You’re Sojiro Sakura, right?” Mr. Sakura nodded. “Sojiro is fine.” He assured her, gesturing with a raised hand out to her. She shook his hand lightly. 

“Sadayo Kawakami, nice to meet you.” She smiled brightly behind closed eyes and her bouncing curly brown hair. I offered my hand to her as well.

She seemed surprised at the gesture as she turned to face me, her eyes tracked me up and down and her expression seemed to hollow out into a feigned humility.

“Akira Kurusu, nice to meet you Ms. Kawakami.” She shook my hand and pulled hers away from mine as fast as she could.

“I’m your general ed teacher.” She said dryly. 

Ms. Kawakami turned around and began walking down the hall slowly, far too abruptly. I wasn’t going to enjoy her class.

“The headmaster’s office is at the end of the hall.”

She sounded like she was about to pass out. Sojiro began to follow her, and I followed him. 

The air around us was, thankfully, no longer eerie. Just parroting the mood of Kawakami, annoyed and tense. I appreciated her clear and present distaste, and or apathy for me, but I doubt it was going away. However, we did have a year. So I guess anything is possible. 

A few short moments later, we reached a larger office that made up the back corner of this floor. Kawakami opened the door and held it open for us both as we made our way inside. The presence of a fine, knitted carpet was a surprise, a much needed homely touch compared to the rest of the building. Although it was a disgustingly out of touch addition. Then again, the headmaster looked like fucking humpty dumpty. The obeese egg of a man waltzed out of his chair, barley making it around his desk, approached Mr. Sakura. 

“Headmaster Kobayakawa.” He said, they shook hands again. The eggman’s hands looked like uncooked burgers, it was honestly making my day. Unfortunately, he neglected to properly introduce himself to me. I was crossing my fingers to feel his ground beef hands, but oh well. He sat back down in his desk, the journey to which looked like it cost every ounce of energy he had. He scooted up to the desk, finding a pen and taking the papers Kawakami had for him. Her and Sojiro had seats, I didn’t. So I stood between the three of them. It felt like I was back on trial.

“So, Mr. Kurusu. Welcome to Shujin. I am the headmaster here, as I’m sure you could tell. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time, so I’ll make this quick.” He looked at me with his fat nose and neverending forehead like he was expecting a response. 

“Yes sir.” I spat. I adjusted my glasses.

He cleared his throat and moved one paper under the stack and moved to however the tip of his ballpoint pen over a blank line on the document. 

“To reiterate: Shujin University has welcomed you here because we believe in second chances. A mind as smart as yours shouldn’t be doomed because of… impulsive, rash actions. We will be watching you closely, supporting you through your tenure here. Besides making sure your grades do not, at any point, drop below a seventy percent average across all of your curriculums, you will be welcome here.” 

He liked run on sentences. 

“I understand, thank you for the opportunity Mr. Kobayakawa. Sincerely.” 

He didn’t look at me, he stared at the papers still. His entire silhouette was quite a sight, with the morning sun cascading over his figure from the window behind him, laying his shadow across the floor and onto my shoes. 

“Alright. Ms. Kawakami here will pay close attention to you as well as the rest of the staff. Even the custodians will know you.”

How comforting. 

“Now, sign here. Thank you again for the documents Ms. Kawakami.” He said, smiling at her while he waited for me to kneel over and sign my name on eight different places on seven different papers. While I read and signed where necessary, the headmaster meatbag turned his attention to Sojiro.

“I’m glad you’re watching over him Mr. Sakura, my predecessor spoke highly of you as a student here!” His voice bellowed, I winced. 

I heard the chair squeak as Sojiro shifted his weight on the seat.

“Um, thank you. I’m glad he’s going here. It’s a good school.” Sojiro said, clearly disinterested and not happy to be here. 

I leaned back up to my neutral standing position, still wracked by all the eyes on me. 

The headmaster turned the papers back to face him, he flipped through a couple with a wet lick of his thumb. 

“Very good. Now, Ms. Kawakami will take you to get your student ID. Unless you’ve any questions?” I cleared my throat and coughed up some phlegm, which I loudly swallowed, looking at Kawakami then the boiled Egg.

“Just one sir. Is there a particular reason as to the lack of dorms on campus? I’ve heard it mentioned recently that the college doesn’t house the students.” 

He leaned back in his chair, appearing more comforted as his fat chin rolls swerved from the movement.

“Fair question. Well, besides it being needlessly costly, several decades ago the school board decided to get rid of them. Having a clean disconnect between home and school life, we believe, is important to guiding our student body down the right path.” He spoke as though he was picking each word with a pair of chopsticks. 

I nodded when he was done. 

“Makes enough sense to me.” I replied.

He leaned forward again, putting his hands together again then immediately taking them apart again as he gestured towards the door.

“Well, see you tomorrow Mr. Kurusu.” 

I thanked him again before Sojiro and I walked outside the office back into the monochrome hall.

We waited in unremarkable silence for a moment before Kawakami stepped back out of the office, gently shutting the door behind us, pulling her shoe up and out of a loose carpet string.

“His carpet is awful.” I said without thinking. Sojiro jabbed me in the rib with his elbow.

Kawakami said nothing, somehow looking more tired.

“Well, you can come with me Kurursu. We’ll only be a minute Mr. Sakura.” Sojiro huffed in acknowledgement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all are enjoying it so far!


	4. Intermission 1: Rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case any of you were wondering the general direction I was going in, here's a better idea.

The sound of his boots smacking against the soaked pavement was almost as loud as the blaring sirens echoing through the buildings and alleyways.

He sprinted, swinging his arms back and forth, finger firmly planted on the trigger of the sleek, silver hand cannon whose barrel still smoked from moments ago.

The man drowning in black fabrics swung himself around a corner and against an old brick wall. His wet hair falling into his vision in small chunks. He tried catching his breath, holding in a gasp, counting to four and exhaling. It wasn’t working. 

He rested his head against the wall, listening as best he could through the heartbeat in his eardrum. He listened for footsteps. He did hear them, but they were too far to be of any concern. The rain was the loudest thing he heard, it pounded on the awning above him, and roared its way across the road, car roofs, and anything else it could touch. 

Once his blood had settled from rushing in his body. He looked down, the gun in his red gloved hands felt less heavy now. He pushed the magazine lock in, the large clip sliding out of the grip. He had seven rounds left for now. He slammed it back into place, cocking the receiver as he slipped away from the wall and began carefully crouch-walking on the sidewalk, weapon ready. 

The mysterious figure continued north on the empty, dark streets, faintly lit by the webs of light sprawling out from the street lamps above him. His long coattails following him along like a snake as he moved in and out of vision. Upon reaching a small gate, he smashed the padlock with the grip of his pistol, tossing the broken lock into the alley the gate was in front of. The lock bounced along the cement, no one was there. Save the rat that scurried away from the sudden  _ CLACK  _ of the broken steel.

He entered the alley, taking another break as the sirens that had dogged him drifted farther and farther away. Although a reason to experience relief, instead a cold chill ran down his spine. The cold that crept into his bones clashed hard with the sweat filling all the crevices of his body and clothes, causing only more rash-inducing discomfort. 

He stood up and looked into the rain. Watching some of it fall onto his skin and the pearl white of the mask that covered most of his face, while his unarmed hand reached into his coat, finding an item in the exterior pocket. 

A bloodied bandage. Whatever wound it used to cover wasn’t old, the red that stained the bandage was as deep and iron-scented as the tint of crimson on the gloves he held the wrapping with. He cursed her absence under his breath.

Footsteps. 

Sprinting.

Water droplets.

**“KURUSU!”**

The thief in black and red swung his body around, aiming his weapon with both hands at the gate he had just broken through. 

**“I KNOW YOU’RE HERE!”**

Akira pulled back the hammer. 


	5. IV: All the new

The angle at which my student ID picture came out wasn’t so bad. Most of my hair was in my face, which was already difficult to get a good glimpse of with my glasses. So it was appropriately mysterious. Deliciously ironic of course, as I’m sure everyone will be talking about the criminal transfer student.

Upon returning, Sojiro quickly changed at home before coming back to open Leblanc for the day. I pulled myself into the dark and cold cafe then up the stairs to my bed I threw myself onto the sheets and after managing to put my glasses on the floor somewhere, sleep sucked me away. If the sheets weren’t so deliciously inviting and just the right level of cold, maybe I’d have stayed awake, but I was asleep before my brain finished registering that I was back in bed.

For the second time in a row, my dreams didn’t seem like they belonged to me. They were so unlike any I’d ever remembered having in my entire life, that the logical conclusion that it was uncharacteristic of me. Especially two instances of it in a row, but, none of these circumstances were usual. I joked to myself that maybe Tokyo was making me dream. I couldn’t know of course. 

I laid in my bed, pressing my hands against the sheets and putting all my body weight onto them as I let my head hang back, staring at the ceiling. Sweat dripped down my temple, my bangs were slightly damp. I slept well, out of the ordinary for a nap, but the heat was bad. I turned my head to the left, noticing I had left the fan off. It was my own damn fault. I pulled the covers off my legs, finding that I still had my slacks on. Maybe I should have undressed too. Oh well. At least I actually got some rest. I moved to sit on the side of the bed, rubbing my eyes again and running my hand across the bed and under the covers, trying to find my phone that fell out of my pocket at some point. The light metal on the edge of my heavy phone case smacked my fingers, which stung for a second while I pulled it back to me to stare at, checking for notifications out of habit again. Nothing. Again. Out of all the changes I was going to be living with, the background, yet sharp feeling of isolation that was fostered from instant severing of social connections, was like losing an eye. It almost didn’t even feel like isolation. I think it’s more accurate to say it was riding the fine line between isolation and simply being forgotten about, but slowly. Like you were watching them write you out of your life.

I stood up slowly, the cold floor sapping the heat from beneath my socks. I wanted to move, no more self-pity. I rolled my shoulders and my head from side to side, cracks and readjustments sending jolts through my skeleton. I exhaled and took one step forward, it was then I realized I was starving. My stomach ached with a deep, raw hunger. When did I even eat last? Yesterday? I think, in the morning. Yeah. That had to be it. 

The low hum of the small, barely five foot fridge in the corner guided me to its door. I slipped my fingers into a crevice on the side of the door, opening the freezer and fridge segments at the same time. The blast of cool hair was a welcome surprise to my face, but the empty fridge was not. It was completely barren. Not even an ice tray. “Fuck me.” 

I sighed and hung my head again, this time towards the floor. I clenched my eyes shut and made a sort of, growling noise in frustration. Slamming the fridge door shut, causing the thing to rattle, I looked for my shoes. One was near the bed, the other hanging off the edge of one of the still full and bloated bookshelves. Guess I kicked it. 

With my shoes on and my wallet in my back pocket, I sauntered down the stairs, my fingers trailing the edge of the railing. I prepared myself to face a crowded lobby, but instead Sojiro was simply doing the dishes behind the bar. Soft music played from the ceiling, accompanying the soft patter and occasional ceramic  _ clack  _ from the sink. I almost wanted to order a coffee.

I walked to the far edge of the bar, near the door that was bleeding the grey morning light into the restaurant, Sojiro didn’t notice till I called for him. 

“Hey, Mr. Sakura. Do you know the quickest way to the nearest grocery store?”

He continued washing the dishes and cups, placing them in a small drying rack over an expensive cloth on the other side of the counter near the sink.

“Go into the street and just follow it down, can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.” I said to his back, leaving the store.

The atmosphere of the late morning outside was fitting for walking. It was cool, but not enough to warrant a coat. You could get by in a collared shirt. I was wearing my thin, navy shirt with a black hoodie over it. If it got any hotter I’d need to tie it at my waist. 

The small trees in the planters outside Leblanc gently blew in the wind, someone on my left started a load of laundry in the hole-in-the wall place near the bathhouse. Up the small road Leblanc laid on, the main backstreet of Yongen Jaya was beginning to grow crowded. People of all shapes and sizes walked along the street. Families with umbrellas, lone businessmen, average and unremarkable men and women going about their days. Like Mr. Goto. I wonder what he was up to today. Although as I walked up Leblanc’s street to reach Yongen, it seemed the people I watched walk about disappeared as fast as they appeared. Most had found their cars or taxis, or left in any other way they needed to. Or so I thought.

Upon finally reaching the street, I looked to the left, a narrow view of the cityscape beyond was filled with red and white lights, doors opening and closing and the occasional car horn. Directly in front of me was a garage door, closed and with some old, rain drenched banner peeling off it, the ink long washed out and illegible. To my right, the rest of the street, was a sign for a batting cage, an advertisement for a clinic startup within the building it was plastered on, and next to that, my objective. The store had slanted palettes of fruit leaning on signs on either of its transparent sliding doors. Above the entrance was a small electric sign reading: “Super muramasa!” 

The store was small and unassuming like everything in this strange alley-street part of the city. I walked by the palettes, inspecting the apples and oranges, they smelled fantastic, the recent rain having soaked the fruits even further into their own scents. I was tempted to grab a handful and bail down the street, eat them and come back for even more. It would be easy. Frankly, I just didn’t have the energy right now though. So I passed by the fruit and walked inside. Few people were between the short aisles, mostly just guys about my age with baskets filling them with various things. 

I grabbed a basket next to the entrance and found my way to where the good stuff was kept. Pockey, intsa-ramen, other salted snacks. Things I didn’t need to put any mind or physical effort into preparing to eat. I convinced myself to get a bag of potato chips too, usually I only ate them during depressive episodes. I had the suspicion that if I didn’t eat them today, it would be soon. Heading to the back wall of the store, I grabbed small bottles of juice and soda. All orange flavored. I was really craving one of those oranges outside now. 

Now finding myself in the aisle where they kept all the bread, I was looking to see if this place had any potato bread. It was common in my hometown, but I didn’t know if this little market would keep the best bread in the planet in stock. I had set my basket on the ground, spreading aside the different wrapped loaves to see in the back of the shelves. Maybe it was hiding somewhere.

“Um, excuse me?” I was in such a bread frenzy I hadn’t noticed someone was trying to get my attention. I turned around, and a girl a slight bit shorter than me was standing there. Her hair was long and thick, bangs covering her forehead and the rest tied back in a long tail that almost went down to her waist, with a neat bow between her head and the tail. She had a small face, short nose and a short, nervous smile. Contrasted with the rest of her features, were her big and soft eyes. They had a genuine and sweet look to them. Like nothing in the world was wrong in her life. 

“Sorry to bother you, um, could you give me a hand? I can’t reach up there…” her sentence trailed off, like she was apologizing for even being around me.

“Oh no, it’s no trouble. Do you mean that one up there?” I asked, flashing her a true enough smile as I looked up to the very top of the shelf, a small bundle of tightly wrapped plastic was just barely showing over the edge. I snagged it between my two longest fingers and tugged it off the shelf, letting it freefall before grabbing it between my arms. She opened her eyes in surprise at the sudden movement, chirping as it crashed into my grasp.

I offered it with a smile again. “Here you go.”

“Thank you! Sorry again.” She said, leaning down to her basket on the floor, filled with smaller loves and wrapped vegetables. A thing of tofu as well I think.

She seemed to be having trouble leaning down with her stiletto heeled boots. She stood back up to face me as I was about to return to my own bread adventures.

“Um, sorry, are you new around here?” I stopped and faced her again, my hands now in my pockets. Apparently I looked visibly confused.

“Oh, I don’t mean to sound creepy. My family and I have lived here our whole lives, and even though it’s Tokyo, Yongen-jaya is kinda a small town, y’know? I just thought I’d welcome you.” She tilted her head slightly, smiling just as bright as the afternoon sunshine cascading on water.

“Uh, yeah. I just moved here yesterday, actually.” I said, relaxing my tense muscles a bit. 

“Oh cool! Well welcome, I’m Kasumi Yoshizawa!” She threw her head down, enthusiastically bowing. I bowed in response, but she was still horizontal by the time I pulled myself back up.

She finally stood straight again, her basket now in hand. “Do you go to school here too? Or online?” 

I cleared my throat, “No, I just got my ID from Shujin. I start there tomorrow actually.” I told her. She beamed again. “Oh, awesome. I’m a first year there. I’m studying gymnastics.” 

“Business for me.”

“Any particular reason?”

“Not really, it’s just a decent general one. Everyone tells me it’s a good one to study if you’re not sure what to do or where to go.”

“I’ve heard the same! Have you been to Tokyo before? Did your family just move here?” 

I was amazed she was this adamant at continuing the conversation while her arm was clearly getting tired from the full basket tugging at her elbow.

“I have, and I’m by myself. Renting a place, I’ll only be here for a year.” I said.

Her expression changed from innocent excitement to quiet understanding presented with the same smile. I think she may have caught on that I wasn’t in Tokyo under the best circumstances. 

“Well, there’s certainly worse things you could be stuck doing for a year.” She said, trying to pull down one of her sleeves. 

I smiled wryly to myself.

“Yeah, guess you’re right. A year is a long time.”

“Well, I gotta run but I hope to see you at school!” She smiled and waved as her shoes loudly announced her departure on the tile. She was cute. Too cute. 

After going about finding the rest of the groceries I wanted or needed, I checked out and carried the full plastic bags back up the street, struggling not to drop some of the oranges sitting at the top of one of the bags. That guy wasn’t very good at packing them. Upon reaching the door, I was stuck outside praying for Sojiro to notice me in the window since my hands were too full. Eventually, he furrowed his brow and disappointedly opened the door for me. Excusing me as a family friend to one of his regulars he was in the middle of a conversation with. I moved as quick as I reasonably could up the stairs, sweat pouring down my sleeves at the increasingly realistic thought of one of the stairs snapping under the weight. I finally crashed onto my bed, an orange spilling onto the floor. My arms felt like jelly, muscles exhausted from carrying all that too much too long. I sighed threw my face into the sheets, all the overused energy leaking from my body as new breaths filled me with more motivation to even move. 

I pulled myself over to my small fridge, taking one bag at a time with me and filling the empty shelves with means to continue my existence. A spot next to my knee quickly pilled up with empty plastic bags, which I stomped into a small bundle when I was done packing everything into the fridge or resting on a shelf. Once I was done, I sat back on my bed, peeling away by hand at an orange before biting into it. I was trying to enjoy my first snack of the day, but the day very quickly took a turn for the strange, because my phone went off.

I was excited to hear and feel the solid vibration of a notification. However, It wasn’t from an app I recognized. 

No app I had stared at you with a black and red eye.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is going to be long and more of a slowburn, I hope you guys enjoy. I have a lot planned out, but the story will take it's time. Thank you for your time! Any comments, questions, or critique is more than welcome.  
My Discord is Phosphor#9697.


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